


Lighthouses

by frigate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 14:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17603057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frigate/pseuds/frigate
Summary: The trip had been Hermione’s idea, and, for the record, Ginny had been against it from the start.“It’ll be bonding!” Hermione had said, pleading. Ginny had grimaced and shaken her head.“C’mon, Gin,” Ron had said, rolling his eyes at both her reluctance and the fact that he had to ask her again. Ginny said, “You know I’m just going to cock block you, so why would you even want me there?”Ron had conceded the point with minimal bad grace; Ginny had been triumphant.“Please come,” Luna had said, eyes big and blue and it seemed like she Wanted Ginny to be there, and Ginny was putty in Luna’s hands. She said, “Okay.” She went.





	Lighthouses

The trip had been Hermione’s idea, and, for the record, Ginny had been against it from the start.  
“It’ll be bonding!” Hermione had said, pleading. Ginny had grimaced and shaken her head.  
“C’mon, Gin,” Ron had said, rolling his eyes at both her reluctance and the fact that he had to ask her again. Ginny said, “You know I’m just going to cock block you, so why would you even want me there?”  
Ron had conceded the point with minimal bad grace; Ginny had been triumphant.  
“Please come,” Luna had said, eyes big and blue and it seemed like she Wanted Ginny to be there, and Ginny was putty in Luna’s hands. She said, “Okay.” She went.

A week away from everything; from Hermione’s Ministry training, Ron’s lack of success in Auror training, Harry’s whatever approach to life that had included a myriad of Big Changes (more on that later) in the last year and a half that had given Mum no less than three Almost Heart Attacks, and from Ginny’s own confusing year. She’d graduated Hogwarts last year and didn’t know what she was doing now, actually. Like, at all.  
Luna wasn’t running from anything; she just seemed to genuinely think it would be fun. Ginny’s heart clenched to see her so excited. These days, Luna was the only regular thing in her life.  
Turned out, a year of Hogwarts being controlled by a shadow government equalled an appalling lack of actual instruction. Every class had then been given the choice: stay on an extra year to redo the schooling they’d missed whilst in the throes of rebellion and/ or terror, or continue on their planned trajectory and finish as planned.  
Ginny had chosen the latter, but the lack of credentials hadn’t been helpful in finding employment.  
Not that she’d wanted to, per se. Her plan had always been travel: seven years over the earth, a year in every continent and every day, waking up somewhere new. Never staying in one place more than a week; nothing with her other than her favorite pair of shoes and a change of clothes and her wand. Alone: Ginny Weasley Takes On The World.  
It had started to feel a little more like The World Taking On Ginny Weasley, recently. She was stuck at home, still, helping mum out and pottering about. Waking every morning, looking to the horizon, and wondering what would happen if she just got up and left— fled and didn’t return.  
Fled.  
But she was a Gryffindor and a Weasley to boot. So even if it killed her to look at the clock, one hand less, even if it smothered her to stay in her room with those damned lilac curtains and help mum with the fucking washing, Ginny didn’t go.  
She had the sinking feeling that nobody would survive her going.  
She had the sinking feeling that she wouldn’t.  
But a week away was doable, and besides, she wouldn’t be alone; she’d be with ‘Mione and Ron and Harry and Luna and, somehow, Draco Malfoy, which was a whole other thing, but apparently was happening. Ginny wasn’t pleased, but so far, he hadn’t said a word.  
Not that he should.

The car itself had been found— yes, found— at the edge of the forbidden forest on her graduation day, skulking about. The old Ford Anglia— Ron and Harry had looked at each other and burst out laughing. It had been something, small and soft and nice.  
There were more of those, nowadays, and sometimes, Ginny could go whole days without even noticing the small chipped-out corner of her heart.  
Today had been one of those; a good day. Capitalized: A Good Day. The Good Day.  
She’d slept over at Luna’s the night before, because they were heading out early. Everyone had slept over at Luna’s, actually, except for Malfoy, who’d shown up last minute, literally as Ginny was tossing the cases in the back of the car— thank Merlin for Extension charms— sheepish and looking far too posh for a camping trip.  
“I’m so sorry I’m late!” He’d said, all frantic and hair sticking up in all directions, and Ginny had turned to Luna and said, “Luna, really?”  
It wasn’t that she was surprised. After the war, Luna and Malfoy— she refused to call the prat Draco— had somehow discovered that they were distant cousins. Malfoy had gone to considerable lengths to make up for the role he played in, you know, everything, and while he hadn’t been exactly welcomed back into the public eye, he wasn’t a pariah, either. Harry had even spoken for him at the trials, which was a whole other topic.  
Luna grinned. “Draco! I’m glad you made it. Do give Gin your case, I’m sure she can handle it.”  
To Ginny: “Forgiveness may need to be earned, but he’s trying, love.”  
Ginny had felt a small twinge at that. She’d grumbled, but to no avail; Luna knew she wouldn’t have said no to her.  
Besides, if anyone had the authority on what Malfoy did and didn’t deserve, it was Luna. Luna, who had been trapped in that damn basement for a year— it still made Ginny want to grind her teeth and punch Malfoy in the nose and distribute as many Bat-Bogey Hexes as were physically possible.  
Luna, who had somehow grown strong enough not to be broken. Luna, who had only grown brighter and lovelier in this past year— sometimes, if Ginny looked at her too long, she’d have to blink before her retinas burned out. It didn’t seem possible that she was real. Ginny kept expecting to reach out and feel her blur at the edges.  
So here they were, now, three hours in, the ocean a bright spread below them, the clouds weightlessly breathy around the car. Ron had insisted on some pretentious indie music, which Hermione had turned off after the first two hours, claiming she needed some normalcy, and then came Spice Girls, and Luna had said, “Oh, I love this song!” so now they’d been listening to Posh Spice sing about what she really really wanted for half an hour.  
Luna was still mouthing along to the words, swaying a little in her seat. She was next to Ginny.  
She caught Ginny’s eye, smiling brightly and jazzing her hands. Ginny grinned and joined in; disco hands didn’t work really well in a carseat, but it was worth it for Luna’s smile.  
“If you wanna be my lover—“ Luna said, and Ginny followed— “You gotta get with my friends.”  
In chorus, “Friendship never e-ends!” and Ron joined in from the front, Hermione shoving at him from the passenger side.  
Ginny heard a quiet murmur from the backseat.  
Malfoy, soft and sounding very skeptically amused. “Are— are they always like this?’  
Luna caught her eye and Ginny giggled. Luna grinned, triumphant, and caught at her hand, raising it to the ceiling. “I want-a, I want-a, I want-a, I want-a—“  
From the front, the backseat, and Luna and Ginny, rang out, “I really really really want a zig-a-zig-ah!”  
“Yes,” Ginny heard Harry murmur back, and smiled despite herself. Luna caught her gaze and grinned, all over her lovely face.

The beach was silent and the sand was white and it bellowed up in a cloud around them as Ron landed. Ginny slapped his head from the backseat, and he grinned, unrepentant.  
Hermione shook her head. “You know, if you’d eased up on the gas a little, we would’ve had a smoother landing.”  
Harry chimed in. “But how else would we feel alive?”  
Hermione rolled her eyes, her cheeks amused, and Ginny smiled, feeling the banter settle under her skin like it belonged there, which it did. Luna caught her eye, smiling back, and then opened up the car door, her hands gentle on the latch as they were gentle in everything.  
Ginny swallowed. She should probably not be paying such close attention.  
Luna was, for a moment, the only one outside, a solitary figure with long white hair and a billowing blue skirt and striped sleeves. The wind off the sea was cold and biting; Ginny felt it curl around her legs even inside. She didn’t whisper a warming charm, not even as she heard Malfoy mutter one from behind her and Harry whisper “Prat.” This was a cold she wanted to feel; this was a summer cold, a crisp bite to the air that reminded her that she was, indeed, alive. The bitter edge to the sweetness of the heat.  
She saw Luna breathe in and out, a heaving motion of her arms and shoulders, and she slid across the seats and joined her, so they were facing the sea and sky together.  
Luna nudged her with a shoulder, a small, I’m here. With you.  
Ginny couldn’t help herself— she curled her fingers around Luna’s open palm.  
It hurt, a little bit, that Luna didn’t even hesitate before threading their fingers together.

That whole thing had started too long ago for Ginny to really remember it, probably before Hogwarts, even, if she was utterly honest with herself. Luna and her dad coming over for tea and helping plant herbs in the summer; after Luna’s mum died, Mum had wanted to stretch out a hand. She’d been Ginny’s only girl friend for a long time.  
She’d been Ginny’s only friend in general for a long time.  
It had been years of sleepovers sharing beds and running through the fields together, falling and scabbing knees and picking each other up, trying meditation and counting stars and planting herb gardens, before Ginny even realized that oh—  
That when Luna brushed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ears, Ginny’s breath caught. That when Ginny made a terrible pun, and Luna threw her head back and laughed, Ginny felt her heart give distinctive thumps in the cage of her chest. That she thought about the curve of Luna’s fingers, the bright thereness of her smile, when she was trying to fall asleep but couldn’t. That Luna centered her.  
She had stubbornly refused those feelings, for what felt like an age.  
Then had come Dean, and then Harry, and they were lovely, and everything Luna wasn’t, and for a time, Ginny thought that was enough. It wasn’t enough. Not with Dean, and certainly not with Harry, who’d left her to go save the world instead of taking her along.  
Luna would never have done something like that; Luna found her flying in circles over the Burrow the third day after Harry, Ron, and Hermione had left, the Golden trio off to save them all, but at least she could keep watch; either for them, coming back, or for the Death Eaters. Luna had stood in the shade of the house and called up at her until she came down, and then she got a broom and joined her, and they flew for hours, and after, Ginny’s stomach finally felt settled enough to eat something.  
Luna was there when Fred died. She’d let Ginny come to hers, which was a new apartment with no memories accumulated like dust in the corners. She’d let Ginny stay until she could face the Burrow and that broken clock again. It had been months before she could.  
It had been months in which she realized too many things. Months in which she realized the futility of lying to herself any longer.  
That had been— two? Three years ago?  
And she had been in this limbo that long: knowing she was in love with Luna. Accepting it.  
Never saying anything. Never, ever saying anything.  
It was just… Luna wasn’t just an ill-fated crush. Luna was Luna: bright, intelligent, fiercely honest. The kindest person Ginny knew.  
If Ginny fucked up this friendship, she’d never find another one like it. This was more than singular; this was so good as to be impossible, and yet she’d somehow hit the jackpot.  
Besides: what was being helplessly in love in the face of friendship that had saved her, over and over, and over again, if not damnation?

They set up a fire right on the beach, wood magicked dry so that it’d burn and sand painstakingly flattened by Malfoy, of all people, who had somehow lost his aversion to manual labour of all kinds. She exchanged a look with Harry, but he just shrugged and turned away. Neither of them moved to help, until Luna bent down and joined Malfoy, chatting softly. The wind took her words, so all Ginny knew was the small movements of her mouth, the bellowing of her hair, ripping out of plaits that Ginny’d done last night, the soft smile she gave Malfoy when he looked at her like she was his knight in shining armor.  
Ginny felt jealousy claw at her throat. She was the only one who should look at Luna like that.  
She bent down next to Malfoy and started flattening sand with him. When he shot her a startled glance, she smiled tightly back: it was more than she would’ve been able to offer an hour ago.  
When Luna shot her a bright smile, she looked away before grinning back: she needed the second in between to school her expression away from the longing she was sure showed.  
Harry and Ron and Hermione unpacked from the car: the tents were magicked up, three in total (except for Hermione and Ron’s; Hermione was insisting on building it the muggle way, for some reason, and she and Ron were staring at the mangled pile of bars and fabric, for almost five minutes, before Harry sighed and began to assemble it for them.) The fire was being built, by Malfoy and Ginny, which was not the direction she’d expected it to go, but oh, well. He hadn’t said anything yet, and Ginny was doing a bang-up job of pretending he didn’t exist.  
He was rather studiously ignoring her, too.  
Luna was standing in the water, looking out to sea. “I’m going to search for Three-Eared Nargles,” she’d said, when the fireplace was smooth enough and rocks had been arranged in a hasty circle around the edge. “And I’d best go alone. They get temperamental, you know. Good luck, you two.”  
And she’d left. And Ginny had stayed, because the only thing worse than working with Malfoy was disappointing Luna.  
“Here you go,” Malfoy said, handing her a gnarled branch. “For the…” he gestured at the flames. Ginny raised an eyebrow and took pity. “Thank you.”  
He breathed in, deep, and when he looked up at her, his eyes were sadder than she’d thought possible. Malfoy as she’d known him was an arrogant toe rag, and proud and angry. She’d never seen him look contrite before.  
“While,” he said, “I cannot pretend to care for you, there are some here whom I have grown to— respect. And I owe—“ he choked on the word, almost, and Ginny thought, ah, there you are— “I owe you an apology. I cannot answer for my family’s actions. But I can answer for my own, and I should have done more.”  
And he stood up and offered her a hand.  
Ginny stared at it, then at him for a moment. Malfoy offering her a hand.  
She took it and hauled herself up. He made to let go, but she clenched her fingers around his and pulled him closer, so she could say, quiet, “Did Luna put you up to this?”  
His eyes flashed. “I resent the implication, We— Ms. Weasley, that I cannot make decisions for myself. No. I am as sincerely sorry as is possible to be. And while you do not owe me forgiveness, mockery is not exactly in order.”  
And Ginny had to laugh, because this— this was ridiculous. Her, mocking Malfoy— and him being offended by it? As though he hadn’t called her Weaselette for seven years.  
As though he hadn’t been a Death Eater.  
She let go of his hand as though it burned, and he winced— she’d probably been clenching too hard.  
Well, fuck it, and fuck him.  
“Well, Malfoy,” she said, and her heart was beating out Fred, Fred, Fred, against her chest, “I suppose it’s a good thing I’m not required to forgive you. Because I certainly don’t.”  
He didn’t look surprised, just disappointed.  
Ginny looked away, and caught Luna’s eye. She was watching them in that way she did, like a bird watching the forest floor below: removed, and curious, and vaguely hopeful.  
Ginny’s heart gave a pang in her chest. She looked at Malfoy, who was watching someone over her shoulder.  
She didn’t turn to look at who it was; she knew.  
She sighed. “Malfoy.”  
His head snapped to hers, but she realized that she’d spent all her words; she had nothing more to say.  
At least not to him.

They’d decided that a walk was in order; at least, they’d come to a general consensus. In actuality, Luna had said, “I’m taking a walk. Ginny, join me?” and Ginny went, and then they heard the sounds of general decision making: “Should we?” “Is there anything else to do?” “Right on, then,” and eventually, the tromping of boots behind them.  
But it was behind them, still. Nobody disturbed them.  
Ginny closed her eyes against the ocean wind. It was like it was just her and Luna, right now; she could feel her, heat at her side, the tickle of hair against her arm, and she couldn’t, for the life of her, remember why she’d ever thought this was a good idea. This was as far from a good idea as it was possible to be. This was no less than torture.  
Luna caught her hand. “This is nice, you know.”  
Ginny slotted her a sideways glance. Luna grinned and squeezed her hand; Ginny’s heart made an escape attempt from her chest.  
The sky spread out above and ahead and behind them and the sea to the side.  
Luna said, “I’m taking off my shoes.”  
She tugged them off; she was wearing mismatched socks and then she wasn’t, they were also balled in her fist. She slanted a glance up at Ginny and said, “You can feel it all better like this.”  
Ginny wondered if she wanted to feel it all better like that. She shook her head, but smiled at the face Luna made.  
They walked on in silence. Harry fell into step next to Ginny, loping casually along with his hands stuck deep into his pockets, and the silence stretched to become awkward.  
Ginny nudged him. “Enjoying yourself?”  
He nodded, ran a self-conscious hand through his hair. “It’s nice. Thanks for inviting us along, Luna.”  
Luna said, “ I didn’t want you all here at first, but now I’m quite glad.”  
Ginny smiled to herself. They kept walking, and the sky kept stretching.

Harry was different, now, in myriad of ways, some of which Ginny was still Rather Unsure About.  
He was softer, now; the war had sapped something from him. He’d never told Ginny what had happened in those moments where they thought he was dead, but she saw the imprint it left on him, sometimes; once, he’d been standing in the kitchen and she’d come in to get a glass of water. It was the middle of the night— he was standing braced against the sink, staring intensely out the window.  
When she’d touched his shoulder, he’d jumped. Ran a stressed hand through his hair.  
“I didn’t see you there,” he’d said.  
Ginny had said, “Obviously not,” and cracked a crooked smile, but he didn’t smile back. He looked through her like she was so much darkness.  
She rested a hand on his shoulder. He looked at her in the darkness and said, “Gin, I—“  
She didn’t know how, but she knew. She nodded and pulled him in for a hug, and they stayed like that for a long time. Ginny wasn’t the first one to pull away, but she wasn’t sure that Harry was either.  
That was a year, a year and a half ago?  
Then came Draco Malfoy.  
It had been nothing at first, really, Harry moaning on as he always did about how the Aurors wouldn’t let him on the field, how he was stuck on filing papers, and then one day he came home from work— this about six months after he’d moved into the Burrow (Mum had been pushing for it for awhile— “I don’t like you being so alone, love, won’t you stay with us?”)— and he was conspicuously silent.  
Mum had nagged him about it at dinner, but he hadn’t taken the bait and excused himself to go to bed early.  
None of them would have known what it was had Ron not come barging in through the Floor at ten p.m., stuffing files into his bag, positively shouting— “Oi! Mate! Malfoy, really?! They’ve buggered you now, as if they think you’re going to go searching through an ex—“  
Mum had said, “Ronald!” and Ron, the prat, had suddenly realized that he had barged in on them in the living room, ginny half-dozing, Mum knitting, Dad reading one of his how-to books.  
Ginny heard steps thunder down the stairs and Harry go, “Ron! Er. Hi. Everyone.”  
Mum had looked at her.  
Ginny had raised her eyebrows— she certainly didn’t know.  
Ron had said, “Er. Right.”  
But they’d all heard them going up the stairs— “Mate, really?”  
And Harry: “It’s not so bad, Ron.”  
At that, Mum raised her eyebrows back, and Ginny shrugged and rolled back over and tried to go to sleep.

There was a lighthouse up ahead.  
Somehow their constellation had rearranged itself: Luna and Ginny still stood, leading the pack, but Harry and Malfoy and Hermione and Ron had switched sides, around and through, and now when Ginny looked back ,she saw Hermione and Malfoy talking animatedly and Ron and Harry chatting, amiable and comfortable.  
Luna saw her glance. “He’s not poisonous, you know.”  
“Who?”  
Luna didn’t dignify that with a response, and Ginny sighed, crossing her arms. “I don’t have to like him, you know. He’s still a prat, no matter how many fires he helps build.”  
Luna slit her a sideways glance. She didn’t say anything for a moment, but her thumb slid, gently, down the side of Ginny’s— she still hadn’t let go.  
“Hey, we should explore,” Ginny said, uncomfortably, and let go to point at the lighthouse. It looked empty and lifeless and cold, and Ginny stuffed her hand back into her pocket rather than interlace it with Luna’s again.  
“That’s a good idea,” Luna said mildly, seemingly not having noticed the Letting Go Of the Hand (Ginny’s heart twinged slightly— merlin and morgana, she thought, make up your mind) and turned and shouted to the others: “Hey! Ginny and I are going to explore this lighthouse! We’ll see you all back at the camp!”  
The Just was implied, as in Just Ginny And I.  
It made them sound like a couple. Ginny clenched her fist, slightly, inside the jacket so that Luna couldn’t see.  
“Are they really—“  
“Have fun!” Harry shouted, cutting off Hermione mid- incredulity. He was grinning wide and Ginny saw Malfoy look at him, all shining eyes and wide-open mouth, and she couldn’t help but grin back, just slightly. Not completely poisonous.  
Luna said, “Oh, he’s so smitten.”  
Ginny thought, I know how he feels.  
She said, “You matchmaker, you.”  
Luna laughed, throaty and lovely and honest, and said, “Oh, me? Never!”  
“You should have been in Slytherin!” Ginny replied. Luna raised a laughing eyebrow.  
“Okay, fine,” Ginny said, “You’re far too honest for that. Perfect and not at all evil enough.” Stuck with enough sarcasm that the honesty didn’t bleed through.  
Luna grinned.  
Ginny grinned back for a beat too long and then said, “I’ll race you,” so that she said something that wasn’t merlin, I love you.  
Luna blinked at her, and then Ginny said, “Last one there’s a moldy egg!” and she was off, and the wind was streaming by her ears, and Luna said, “A moldy egg?” and the sky above her seemed to blink down and say that it was okay, really, and the lighthouse looked suddenly far more welcoming. 

The lighthouse no longer looked so welcoming: they were locked in. Light was slanting in through high windows; they were at the very entrance, the base of a thousand steps. Ginny felt vaguely like she was standing in a dragon’s maw.  
Luna said, “Well, while we’re here, we might as well explore.”  
Ginny couldn’t believe they’d both forgotten their wands. “We’ve already explored.”  
Luna said, “Ginny…”  
Ginny turned and sat with her back agains the door. Luna was standing on the bottom step of the staircase, looking for all intents and purposes like a faerie princess from one of Beedle’s old tales. Ginny reached out her arms.  
She was tired.  
Luna came over and knelt so that she was in between Ginny’s arms and encircled her. Ginny lay her head on Luna’s collarbone and closed her eyes. She could smell only Luna, not the must and dust of the lighthouse. She could almost imagine they weren’t in here.  
Luna didn’t move, but she whispered, “I could try to pick the lock.”  
Ginny, in that moment, wouldn’t have moved for all the lockpicks in the world. “You know how to pick a lock? Wow. Such hidden depths, you secret Slytherin, you. I knew it, for the record.”  
Luna laughed into her hair. Ginny felt her breath on her neck. She closed her eyes and burrowed in closer, and Luna let her, but drew back after a moment.  
She leveled Ginny with her seagrass-green eyes. “You don’t have to be okay right now, Ginny.”  
Ginny raised her eyebrows. “I’m just tired, Luna. I’m fine.” Luna was so close.  
Luna ran a thumb down the side of Ginny’s cheek and Ginny caught her breath. She was not fine. Not fine at all.  
She took a shuddering breath in.  
“What is it?” Luna said. Her eyes were earnest. The curve of her nose envied sympathy. Evoked empathy.  
Ginny breathed out, and kissed her.  
Luna took a sharp gasp against her lips, and Ginny pulled back, but Luna said, “No, no— don’t—“ and pulled her back in, arms on her cheekbones and fingers on the edges of her hair. Ginny curled her fingers into fists on the side of Luna’s collarbone and licked into her mouth and Luna kissed her back.  
Ginny opened her eyes so that she could see it: Luna’s eyelashes fluttering on spotted cheeks. Her blonde eyebrows, barely visible in the slanting light. She didn’t close them again, not even when Luna drew back and said,  
“Merlin, I’m so glad you did that.”  
She kept them wide open and said, “I’m glad, too,” and she caught the quicksilver edge of Luna’s smile before she was being kissed again, and it was more smiles than anything else, but that was okay, too. That was better than okay. 

Luna had held her hand the first time a year ago.  
The anniversary of her mum’s death— Ginny didn’t remember her as more than a figure in a wide-brimmed sunhat, framed in light. She’d never really known Luna’s mum as anything other than Luna’s mum.  
They hadn’t buried her; she’d been cremated and the ashes tossed over her vegetable garden.  
Luna had been silent the whole day; Ginny had slept over the night before, as best friends did, and woken at dawn to find the bed empty (they’d shared, with a safe amount of space, back-to-back, but Ginny had still felt the lack of warmth). The sky was a periwinkle that reminded Ginny of the edge of a dream.  
She’d gone to look out the window, (which looked over the vegetable garden) and saw that she was right: Luna was kneeling among the carrot-tops, staring out at the sea.  
Ginny had gone down and sat next to her, and then gone inside and made breakfast and brought it out.  
Luna took it with a smile in thanks, but she didn’t say anything; Ginny brought the tray back inside when they were done and returned with steaming cups of tea and they sat and watched the dew melt off the leaves and the sun pull itself up.  
It was a chilly day, early April, but it didn’t rain. Ginny brought out a blanket for them to sit on, stolen from Luna’s bed because she didn’t know where the duvet cabinet was.  
As the sun reached its peak, Luna reached out and took her hand.  
And as the sun fell, she kept holding it.  
When the moon rose, and Ginny’s teeth had started chattering slightly, Luna had leaned a head on her shoulder and said, “Thank you for staying with me.”  
Ginny had leaned her head back and said, “I couldn’t imagine going.”  
Luna’s fingers had squeezed. Just slightly.  
And that was okay, too.

**Author's Note:**

> ok so hi this is the first time I've ever posted anything on ao3, or even completed a fanfic (even a short one like this) so... i hope u like it?? honestly i was just at this lovely beach and i couldn't get the thought of going there with friends out of my head, and this was somehow born.


End file.
